


Second Chances and Us

by cherryan



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Coping, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, tags will be added with future chapters, vr au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryan/pseuds/cherryan
Summary: Saihara's eyes open to a deep, soothing darkness, soon to be stolen away and replaced with a cruel and harsh reality. And yet, there are glimmers of a promise there, of a hopeful future that he did not expect to find. With a heart torn between the painful truth and the comfort of lies, he sets out to take this second chance and mend the mistakes made before - and to understand someone he had never thought to understand.





	Second Chances and Us

Saihara’s eyes opened to a deep darkness blanketing his vision, his body awfully heavy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the strength in his body to lift his arm. It was like waking up to a pitch black scenery in the middle of the night, except for the lack of strength in his body making him feel as though he had slept a thousand years. _I see, maybe I died after all_ \- such a thought suddenly crossed his mind. And yet, as he lay there, even though he should’ve been filled with terror, his heart was calm. Perhaps it was all the tension that had plagued his body and mind for the past days finally dissipating, leaving him nothing but a desperate desire for rest. 

And yet, even the cooling comfort of the darkness was stolen away, and the world went bright as a weight was lifted from his head. He blinked, squinting, eyes trying to gain focus of his surroundings. It was too bright - the ceilings, the walls, the coats of the people, everything, everything was white. His vision was a blur, and words sounded like gibberish. 

Slowly, his senses stabilized, and the world came into focus. The light-colored, uncomfortable bedlinen. The bed surrounded by unfamiliar devices. The sensors and IVs covering his body, tubes connected to hanging bags and machines surrounding him. And the people fiddling with said bags and machines, moving and speaking at a pace his mind simply couldn’t keep up with. He was briefly reminded of all the hospital visits he had had during his life - getting examined while growing up, visiting a sickly grandmother, or the distant relative with a broken arm. For a moment, his mind flew from one explanation to another, some more or less hopeful. _An illness? No- an accident?_ Maybe he had been in an accident, and lost consciousness. Been in a coma. Maybe every horrible, nightmare-like scenario was simply a long, bad dream. Such hopes were soon to be crushed, however.

A young man holding a notepad approached, leaning towards him. 

“Shuichi Saihara?”

Hearing his name, he turned to the man, blinking as he desperately tried to take in his surroundings and gather his thoughts. His mouth was parched. Though he parted his lips, words seemed to get stuck in his throat. That was when his eyes landed upon the strangely-colored name tag on the man’s chest, his heart skipping a beat, eyes widening.

_‘Team Danganronpa’._  


* * *

  
“A killing game… simulation?”

Saihara blinked twice in the brief moment of silence that followed the question. The nurse nodded, and enthusiastically pointed his pen to the table next to Saihara’s bed. His eyes followed, landing on a large, helmet-like device with different ports and slots he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

“Yes! Accomplished with this here, actually. Cutting edge VR tech, developed by Team Danganronpa itself… well, a branch, anyway. I’m not sure about all the technicalities, since I’m here just to monitor your health, but its functions are pretty amazing! Well, I guess I don’t need to tell a participant that.”

Saihara bit his lip. As much as he wanted to downplay it, he couldn’t deny what the man was saying. The places he had been at just hours before, they all had been undeniably real - or apparently, they had only felt that way. His sense of touch, even the tastes and the smells; none of them had seemed to work any differently than in his everyday life. He blinked, looked down, opened his hand, closed it again. The same sensations. He almost wanted to deny what he had just been told, purely on the basis of it sounding so unbelievable. 

He looked back at the man, who looked up to him with a sincere smile, then flipped through his papers. Still in shock, Saihara couldn’t begin to describe what he was feeling. He remembered just how sad and angry Shirogane’s words had made him. He had thought that she and her so-called ‘team’ must’ve all been incredibly cruel to put them through such a thing - even if they called it fake, the memories of all the death and destruction they had all witnessed were real and fresh on his mind. The mental images flooding his mind made him shudder; and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to vent his anger at the man in front of him. 

“Anyway, I just need to ask you some questions and see how you’re doing, okay? You’ve lost some strength while hooked up to the simulation, so you’re gonna have to stay for the rest of the day, maybe tomorrow, so we can be sure you don’t collapse on your way back home.”

He nodded, not having much strength to do anything else. 

  


* * *

  


The rest of the day was filled with examinations - aside from the man who had evaluated him and given him a brief explanation when he first woke up, a few other nurses came by to ask their questions. Whether he was nauseous, or light-headed, or if he had trouble with his vision, or how his muscle strength was faring. As they fiddled frantically with their notepads, Saihara couldn’t help but feel a lump of frustration, glowing with angry heat in his chest. He was the one who wanted answers here. 

And yet, when the nurses were done with their questions, they quickly apologized for the intrusion, turning on their heels before he could get a word in edgewise, leaving him with the company of nothing but the wind blowing outside the window. Even the whirring machines were gone, having been taken away once the nurses were done with their initial examinations. 

When he had first been left by himself, he had made the mistake of leaning back and closing his eyes, eyelids feeling heavier than he thought they had ever before. He had only fallen asleep for a short time, yet it was long enough for him to have a vivid dream. Though his movements in it were slow, his body felt light and warm, as though afternoon sun was caressing his back and shoulders. He was surrounded by everyone, smiles on their faces, laughing - their jokes and squabbles didn’t make any sense in his ears, yet the mood alone tugged at the corners of his lips, kindling laughter in his chest. That’s when he heard a rolling sound, and looked down.

 _Ah, a shot put ball._ Rolling past his feet, it left a trail of blood in its wake. The air muddled with a heavy smell of iron. 

He swallowed slowly, a cold drop of sweat running down the back of his neck. Eyes glued on the ball. A sense of anxiety permeated every single one of his nerves. It was quiet, as though a thousand years had passed in the moment since the laughter had ended. The booming sound of silence filled his ears. He turned his head, then his body around. His eyes met with a pair of shoes. 

Creak, creak, creak. The sound of a rope swaying. 

He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t have to look - he knew what would await him if he did. Following the trail of blood, his eyes landed on its source. Green hair. A pool of blood. A stained shot put ball. A lifeless corpse. The smell of copper pervaded his senses. All he could hear was the thumping of his own heart in his ears, drowning the sound of the creaking rope. 

He woke up.

 

The rest of the day and the following night passed with little sleep. 

  


* * *

  


Early the following day, a man in an attire befitting an office worker handed him a small stack of papers. Skimming over them, he realized they were his profile - and a detailed one, at that. Confused, he cocked his head, looking up at the man who wore a cold expression.

“Copies of all the documents submitted during your application process. It’s part of the procedure.”

“...application?” The man’s words did nothing to clear Saihara’s confusion. 

“I believe Shirogane-san already mentioned this, but you all signed up for the program yourselves. The documents contain both your signature, as well as those of your parents. In fact, I have some documents to end the procedures I still need you to sign.”

Just then, Saihara recalled what Shirogane had said - what she had shown them. He gritted his teeth, stomach turning in disgust. Did they really mean to make him believe he would do such a thing? Flipping through the pages, he looked for something, anything that would prove him wrong. Nothing. He recognized his handwriting, his signature - there were even photos attached to some of the documents, clearly showing his face, albeit in some, he was still wearing his hat. The same hat he had found on his tableside, waking up the previous day. The one still sitting there.

 _Lies. Fakes. Forgeries. Bullshit._ He felt sick to his stomach - he had no memory of ever holding a pen to these papers before, of being in the situations the photos were clearly showing. It felt alien, like looking at himself from the outside, as though somebody wearing his face had been living his life for him. He refused to believe that was _him._

Clearly painfully uninterested in whatever he had to say in protest, the man handed him several other documents, still lacking a signature. 

“The medical staff confirmed that your test results indicate you’re good to go. Since you’re probably still confused from the effects of the simulation, the copies of all the documents should help you get back to your daily life. They have all your basic information down, as well as your background. As soon as you sign these, you’re free to walk out”, the man informed him, handing him a pen. Saihara gave the documents a quick look - a big part of it was legal language hard to decipher, but he gathered that it was to absolve them of all consequences once he walked out of the door. Hardly unexpected. 

“...how is Shirogane-san?” In truth, Saihara wasn’t sure why he was asking. Perhaps when the man had brought up her name, it had piqued his curiosity. _She’s an employee, right? So she’s not going through the same things?_

The man sighed before gathering himself. His behaviour was tense. 

“Probably getting chewed out by the higher-ups. That screw-up really did a number on her career, no matter what she says or does now. And the PR team…” The man caught himself before he could finish his sentence, obviously not wanting to blabber anything unnecessary to an outsider. 

But Saihara had already caught onto what he was saying, and though it was unlike him, he felt a little self-satisfied. His actions may not have exactly brought the company down, but just knowing he had given them trouble was enough to make him feel victorious. It was a start, if nothing else. The man had reverted back to his cold demeanor, but Saihara felt he could still get more answers. Specifically, the answers to questions that had been on his mind since the previous evening.

“What about Yumeno-san and Harukawa-san?” Thankfully, his question didn’t seem to bother the man, who answered promptly. 

“The same as you; being briefed and examined. The medical staff seems satisfied with your results, so you should all be fine and able to leave as soon as you wish.”

Saihara let out a sigh without thinking. There had been no real reason for him to have been worried, but he felt relieved nonetheless. He didn’t like thinking about the other two going through all this alone - Harukawa was probably fine, considering her nerves of steel, but he couldn’t help but wonder how Yumeno was doing. _Well, it’s okay._ He could see them soon. For now, there was one more thing on his mind. 

“What about everyone else?”

He had wondered about it ever since he had learned about the nature of the simulation. Everything in that world had felt so real - from all their joy, to the sound of laughter, to their bonds and their tears, to the dead glassy eyes and smell of blood turning his stomach, the horrifying sights of the mangled corpses of his friends. It had all felt painfully real. It had _been_ real. And yet, it was not. But if that was the case, those who had died must also be… 

“You want to see them?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who read this far! This is a complete overhaul of the (pretty dull early draft) oneshot I wrote for oumasaiweek in 2018 (for the prompt 'postgame'), and I'm far happier with how it turned out now. I've been wanting to turn it into a multichapter series even since before then, so hopefully that will come true now that I gathered the guts to finally post it. Tags, characters etc. and potentially warnings will be added with future chapters, so if you're sticking around, please keep an eye out for those. And I'd absolutely love to hear any feedback that you may have!


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